The Pest Stops Here

A short horror story about love and beetles

Harry stood in front of his new apartment building with his hands in his pockets as his eye travelled up the massive plant climbing up the facade. The building itself was- vintage, if Harry were putting it politely, but very well maintained. It was fifties era mint green with white trim and a locked, gated entryway. The plant had to be twenty-five feet tall. Not as tall as the building, but damned impressive. And its leaves were enormous, two or three feet long some of them, and fringed almost. He’d never seen anything like it anywhere in the city before. It certainly wasn’t ivy or creeping fig, those were everywhere.

“Har? What are you looking at?” Helen, Harry’s wife of ten days snaked her arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. The locked gate was for her, she’d insisted on the security. Bit of a worrier.

“This plant is incredible, don’t you think?” Harry threaded his fingers through hers.

“I don’t know, I hadn’t noticed it.”

“It’s huge, how could you not notice?”

“I was staring at you I guess.”

Harry could almost see the playful smirk that spread across her face as she stood behind him. They’d only met a few months before, but it had been a fiery ride getting to where they were today. Harry was not typically the passionate, impulsive type, but something about Helen had captured him body and soul. Maybe more body than soul, but she was amenable enough, she’d wriggle into his soul eventually.

“I see you’ve met our Bird.”

Harry turned to see the apartment manager striding toward him. The man was short, broad, and wore his professionalism like a dirge. He’d change his tune the moment his eight-hour mourning period was up, no doubt. Harry hadn’t decided if he liked the manager yet or not, business ethics were a bit of sticking point for him, but hopefully they didn’t have much to do with each other.

“The plant is named Bird?”

“Named by our former gardener, for the feather-like leaves. His father was the gardener who planted it, now his daughter, Rosette, looks after the grounds.”

“Wow, that’s incredible, three generations! Isn’t that sweet, Har?”

“It’s odd, in this day and age, I don’t know about sweet. But I do like the plant quite a bit.”

“If you ask Rosette she’ll give you a cutting. Several of the residents here have mini Bird’s growing in their apartments.”

Harry nodded, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take care of a plant, observing this one really should suffice.

“Do you have our keys?” Helen cut in. “We have a lot of work to do.”

The manager looked briefly like she’d asked how his spirit died, then nodded and reached into his pocket.

* 

The next morning, coffees from the boutique shop up the street in hand, Harry and Helen stood admiring the plant. Or Harry did. Helen was thumbing through her phone. He left her on the sidewalk and walked across the dewy grass to view the beast up close. He could see that it had actually been secured to the building by rubber straps and that its long, fleshy aerial roots dangled off its stem, growing down the building and into the ground, like thick strands of hair. Peculiar, thought Harry, it looked like it had seed pods growing in among the leaves. Large ones though, nearly as long as his hand.

“That’s the inflorescence.”

Harry jumped, glad that he’d opted for a lid on his coffee.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Rosette, Mike mentioned you liked my Bird. I wondered if you’d be here this morning.” Rosette stuck out her hand, tanned and calloused, but somehow also tiny and graceful. Harry shook it quickly, with a glance back to Helen, who was still on her phone.

“I’m sorry, inflorescence?”

“The reproductive part of the plant. In this case it’s made up of hundreds of tiny flowers, so we call it an inflorescence, not a flower.”

“Huh, interesting. How long until they open?”

“A couple days, it’s not very impressive, the inflorescence is very plain, but something absolutely incredible happens when they open that I think you’ll enjoy.” Rosette’s smile was so big and her tone so whimsical that for a moment Harry wondered if the incredible thing might be a mass birth of fairies. Harry felt himself smiling, too, rather unbidden, and wondered if he looked as idiotic as it felt.

Across the lawn Helen had finally looked up from her phone. “Harry?” Her head swiveled in search of him.

“Oh, that’s me. Thanks for the plant lesson.” Harry stumbled across the grass. “Sorry, Helen, the gardener was just telling me about the plant’s infl- flowers. I guess something pretty incredible happens in a couple days when they open.”

Helen stared across the lawn at the petite gardener. “Huh, I didn’t expect her to be pretty,” she muttered.

“She’s not that pretty. Kinda plain really.” Harry didn’t consider himself a man of great intelligence, but he knew bait when it was laid at his feet.

“You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, compared to you she’s like a little calloused hobbit.”

Helen laughed and grinned at him, “Har, you crack me up. Come on, we still have so much to do.” She took his hand in her soft, long-fingered grip and led him inside.

*